ard and returned the answer, and next moment a flight of
arrows from the Queen's guard laid low the four sons of Abi, and most of
those who were with them.

Then the fight began, one of the fiercest that had been known in Egypt
for many a generation. The royal regiment, it is true, was but small,
but they were picked men, and mad with despair and rage. Moreover, Tua
the Queen played no woman's part that night, for when these charged,
striving to cut a path through the opposing hosts, she charged with
them, and by the moonlight was seen standing like an angry goddess in
her chariot, and loosing arrows from her bow. Also no hurt came to her
or those with her, or even to the horses that drew her. It was as though
she were protected by some unseen strength, that caught the sword cuts
and turned aside the points of spears.

Yet it availed not, for the men of Abi were a multitude, and the royal
guard but very few. Slowly, an ever-lessening band, they were pressed
back, first to the walls of the old temple of Sekhet, and then within
its outer court. Now all who were left of them, not fifty men under the
command of Mermes, strove to hold the gate. Desperately they fought, and
one by one went down to death beneath the rain of spears.

Tua had dismounted from her chariot, and leaning on her bow, for all her
arrows were spent, watched the fray with Asti at her side. With a yell
the troops of Abi rushed through the gate, killing as they came. Now,
surrounded by all who remained to her, not a dozen men, they were driven
back through the inner courts, through the halls, to the pylon stairs.

Here the last stand was made. Step by step they held the stairs, till
at length there were left upon their feet only Tua, Asti and Mermes, her
husband, who was sorely wounded in many places. At the little landing
between the rooms of the Queen and Asti while the assailants paused a
moment, the Captain Mermes, mad with grief and pain, turned and kissed
his wife. Next he bowed before the Queen, saying:

"What a man may do, I have done to save your Majesty. Now I go to make
report to Pharaoh, leaving you in charge of Amen, who shall protect you,
and to Rames, my son, the heritage of vengeance. Farewell, O Daughter of
Amen, till I see your star rise in the darkness of the Under-World, and
to you, beloved wife, farewell."

Then, uttering the war-cry of his fathers, those Pharaohs who once had
ruled in Egypt, the tall and noble Mermes grasped his